Everything I Own
by fiftyshadesofdevingray
Summary: Ron Weasley is one of the best known aurors in the wizarding world, but as a brand new father an especially difficult case brings him to his knees.


**Summary: Ron Weasley is one of the best known Aurors in the wizarding world, but as a brand new father a particularly difficult case brings him to his knees. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Harry Potter is the beautiful, amazing JK Rowling's**

**Authors note: After reading one of my favorite fanfics which you should all read, read Solace. And after seeing that the HP movie lacked my Ron/Rose interaction I was yearning for, I decided to write this.**

** "Everything I Own"**

"_Be of love a little more careful than of anything."-__** E.E. Cummings**_

Ron could feel his day would be different the moment the moment his feet hit the floor but he didn't know what, so he decided to ignore it. He proceeded on with his day with his normal routine, got up, got dressed, fixed he breakfast at the early morning hour. He only seemed to do one thing differently that morning,

Three weeks prior, Hermione had given birth to their first child. Rose. He loved Rose with all his heart but she was a night owl and tended to keep them both up until the early hours of the morning. Finally she had slept through one night, and gave Hermione the sleep she so desperately needed. So instead of creeping back into the respective and giving them both a kiss goodbye; he just reveled in one of the few moments' silence he had. But he would later become remorseful about the small moment.

The moment he stepped into the Auror office he was shuffled right back out by Harry for an emergency. An anonymous owl had come in about Ivan Bell, a wizard known to dabble in the dark arts. The owl led them to his home on the outskirts of London. It was a dark house, large and rickety; something you expected from this particular man. The inside of the house held more terrifying sights.

Ron and Harry crept through the house with great stealth, their wands drawn in front of them to stop ward off any on coming dangers. Harry was in front Ron when he halted, making stumble back a bit. The green-eyed man gasped and Ron peered over his shoulder to see what had happened. On the stairs lay a woman with mousey brown hair and pale skin; she had been hexed, she was dead.

Harry knelt down next to the woman, and brushed her hair away. "Mildred Malachy, his wife," he whispered.

Ron knelt down next to Harry and examined her face, bruises and cuts covered the woman's face. She couldn't have been much older than he, and yet she lay there on the floor in front of him. Sure he had seen death before but this still seemed so surreal to him.

Ron bit his lip. "H-how?" he stuttered.

Harry tilted the woman's head to the side examining her carefully, "Cruciatis, she was tortured to death," he explained, quietly.

Ron felt his heart start to race, Hermione immediately came to mind and her ordeal at Malfoy Manor. Mildred was crumpled, broken on the landing of the steps. He remembered how broken Hermione had looked, and he couldn't help but feel his heart rip when he thought of her like this. He needed to keep moving, he couldn't keep looking at this woman.

" I am going to search the upstairs," said Ron, quickly.

Harry nodded, curtly. "Keep you wand drawn," he ordered.

Ron crept up the stairs and stopped at the door just ahead of him, and kicked it open. The room was bright pink, and terribly out of character for this house, clearly a baby's room. The room smelled like death and terror. Ron ventured deeper into the room and saw the crib, which seemed to hold no movement. He swallowed harshly and walked over to the crib, to see something no parent should ever have to see.

The baby girl lay dead, her skin held no pink but the deep purple of bruises. Her eyes were still opening, and seemed to be penetrating Ron's soul, he reached and closed them. The feeling of cold skin made everything inside of him crumble. She didn't look like her, but in that moment he reminded he her so much of Rose.

His thoughts went a million miles a minute, he didn't quite know how to handle this. He didn't know if he could venture deeper into the house, he didn't know what he needed to get out of there. Ron started breathing heavily, his head started to feel light and before he knew it the room had gone black.

**Later**

" _Ron, love, wake up."_

Love? He knew he wasn't with Harry anymore, the voice was too feminine and called him _love_. He and Harry were close but he wouldn't have called him love. Ron opened his eyes slowly to see Hermione, pajama clad, hair plaited back, and stroking his forehead lovingly. She smiled gently at him, obviously breaking her out of certain worry.

"What happened?" he croaked, "Where am I?"

Hermione kissed his cheeks lovingly. "You passed out, but you're home now," she reassured him.

Ron leaned against his elbows looking around the room , he was now laying in his bed. His boots were discarded and his cloak lay over a chair. The room was dimly lit, except for a few flames in a nearby jar, he must have been out for hours.

Ron flopped his head back against the pillow. "How long have I been out?"

"You've been out for hours, I was so worried," she explained, lovingly.

Ron moved his hand up to stroke her cheek. "Don't be, I am just a pussy who faints," he chuckled, half-heartedly

Hermione frowned. "Honestly Ronald, we have a baby now," she scolded. "Do you want Rose picking up on that kind of language?"

Suddenly everything came flying back to him, Mildred and the baby laying tortured and dead in the house. The icy cold skin under his fingertips, the bruises, the pure terror he felt being in that home. He knew what he had to do.

He sat up quickly, and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood up quickly, and was about to dart out of the room, but Hermione grabbed his arm to halt him. He turned to her and looked right at her, her eyes held worry, confusion, and the pleas for an explanation.

Ron sat back on the edge of the bed, suddenly overcome with emotion. "Work today, a woman and a baby were tortured, the Cruciatis curse," he choked, a tear running down his cheek.

Hermione wrapped her arms around the back of his shoulders, burying her head into his neck. "Oh Ron, love, I am so sorry," she crooned , lovingly.

His body shook down to the core. "All I could think of was, what if that had been you and Rosie?"

Hermione moved so she was sitting next to him on the bed, she grabbed his head. "Look at me," she ordered, gently. "It wasn't me and it wasn't Rose, we aren't going anywhere," she reassured him.

Ron pressed his forehead to hers. "I don't think my heart could take losing you," he admitted, sorrowfully. "I feel so guilty, not giving my girls a kiss goodbye this morning."

Hermione nuzzled his nose. "As you should," she teased. "But there is always now."

Ron smiled back at her and pulled her in, kissing her passionately. He ran his hands up and down her back, the feeling of the flees dressing grown soft under his hands. Ron pulled for away, moving lips down to her neck. Not to start anything, clearly nothing could be started because they had a three week old but to kiss the scar on her neck that Bellatrix had left.

Hermione pulled away and stroked a stray hair from his face. "I think you need to see Rose now," she suggested.

"I think you're right," he nodded.

Hermione left the room, she still moved slowly; her body was not completely healed from child birth. Ron took the opportunity to get dressed, changing into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and laying back on the bed. Soon Hermione walked back into the room with a small yellow bundle in her arms.

Ron held his arms out and Hermione placed the small bundle into his arms. He sat up for a moment laying the baby flat on the bed, he unwrapped the yellow blanket from her. She was perfect, he wondered how somebody could look so much like him but still be so beautiful, it might have been she got her mother's nose. She was just so pink and perfect. He picked the baby back up and laid back down, pressing the small girl to his bare chest. She was warm she was alive.

"Rosie," he whispered. "My little Rosie, you better not go before me."

The baby looked up at him, yawned, and reached up to yank at his hair. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her soft warm cheek. Yes, she was alive, she definitely was alive.

**A/N: It was meh, review?**


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